The Adventures of Little Clark, Part III
by Centralia Currie
Summary: It's Clark's first Christmas, and he isn't finished showing off his abilities to Maamaa and Daadaa. The fourth part of the Little Clark series.
1. Christmas is Coming

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

**Author's Note**: I love Little Clark!

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><p>Christmas was coming, and three-year-old Clark Kent, whose origins were still unknown to his adoptive parents after they came across him in a cornfield during the recent meteor shower, couldn't understand why his parents were so happy.<p>

Maamaa and Daadaa just seemed to be in more cheerful moods, but they were also acting a bit peculiar. For some strange reason, Daadaa had climbed a ladder last week and had started hanging lights on the outside of the house. After Clark asked his adoptive father why, Maamaa and Daadaa had collected Clark, put him in their truck, and driven around town to look at the lights on everybody else's houses. Clark was more confused than ever. Why was everybody hanging up colorful lights everywhere?

Then one day, Daadaa had gone completely crazy. He had chopped down a tree and put it up INSIDE THE HOUSE!

But Maamaa was smiling and happy. As Daadaa put the tree up in the living room, Maamaa wept with joy and gave Daadaa a sweet kiss. "Clark's first Christmas!" she exclaimed.

"Maamaa…Maamaa…_why_?" little Clark asked his mother, his eyes wet with tears. "Why tree?"

Martha Kent looked at her tiny son, his face a beacon of confusion. She laughed and lifted him up in her arms. "Clark, honey, it's _Christmas_!" she exclaimed. "Daadaa and I have told you. It's a special day when we sit around the tree and drink hot chocolate and open presents-"

"What peasants?" Clark asked.

"_Presents_, Clark," his father corrected him. "New toys you get from Maamaa and Daadaa!" Jonathan and Martha Kent agreed long ago not to even mention Santa Claus until Clark was a little older; this was Clark's first Christmas, their little adopted boy couldn't understand, and they didn't want to confuse him any more than he was already.

"Honey, maybe we can give him an example of a present," Martha smiled. "You know that special trunk of toys you're saving for Clark?"

"_No_, Martha," Jonathan said seriously. "Those toys are very special, and Clark isn't old enough!"

"You haven't played with them since you were _thirteen_, Jonathan!"

"A boy's childhood obsessions are not something easily given up," Jonathan pouted. "Clark's way too little to understand the Dukes."

"He'll get a kick out of the car, sweetheart."

Finally, Jonathan sighed. He reached over to his wife and ran a hand through his son's hair. "Sit tight, son," he told Clark. "Daadaa will be back with a present."

* * *

><p>Daadaa was up in the attic for a long time. While he was up there, Maamaa picked up some colored balls and started hanging them up on the tree. "Decorating the tree, Clark, was always my favorite part of Christmas." She handed a colored ball with a metal hook on the end to her son. "Here. Hang it on one of the tree's branches." Martha demonstrated with the ball in her hand.<p>

Clark hung the metal hook on a low branch. "Look, Maamaa! Clark tree!"

"Yes, Clark's decorating the tree very nicely!"

"Present time, Clark!" Daadaa reappeared in the living room with a box wrapped in red and green wrapping paper, and handed the box to his son. "Here's a present for you, Clark. Unwrap the box and see what's inside."

Clark sat down on the living room floor with his present. For a couple of minutes, he just stared, not knowing what to do with it. Finally, he picked up the box and held it in his hands.

"Unwrap it, Clark," Martha Kent said gently. She sat down beside her son and began to tear the wrapping paper off of the box. "Look, sweetie. It comes off. Rip it off!"

Clark smiled happily. What Maamaa was doing looked fun. He excitedly tore the rest of the wrapping paper off of the box, and the lid fell off in the mayhem. Clark lifted a toy car out of the box; it was orange with some kind of a flag on top. On the sides was some lettering that Clark couldn't read.

"This, son, is the General Lee. The Dukes' car," Jonathan Kent smiled to his son, patting Clark on the shoulder. "My favorite toy when I was a kid. Your Uncle Jack and I used to pretend that we were Luke and Bo." Uncle Jack was Jack Jennings, Jonathan's childhood friend, who had spent Thanksgiving with the Kents.

Clark rolled the General Lee along the living room floor. "Clark like," he told his father happily.

"Now, Clark, the General Lee moves faster than _that_," Jonathan told his son. "Here, let Daadaa try!"

Martha just smiled and continued to hang up tree ornaments. _Boys_, she thought.


	2. Cabin Fever

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

**Author's Note**: I love Little Clark!

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><p>That evening, Clark sat in his little booster seat at the kitchen table eating Maamaa's homemade pumpkin pie while his adoptive parents sipped tea. Jonathan was reading the paper, and Martha was knitting in the living room.<p>

"Honey, I forgot to tell you," Martha called out to her husband. "We got an invitation today for a Christmas party at Nell's."

Jonathan frowned and set his paper and coffee mug down on the kitchen table. "Did she mention anything about children being allowed?"

"No, but I don't see why not. Little Lana will need someone to play with."

Jonathan shook his head. "We can't go, Martha. I don't trust anyone babysitting Clark, and we can't risk Clark showing his abilities off in front of those people."

"Jack Jennings just spent Thanksgiving with us," Martha argued.

"Sweetheart, I've known Jack for years. He loves Clark like a son. If he found out Clark's secret, he'd keep it with us. But some of these people who live in our town-" Jonathan shook his head again. "I know you don't get out too much, Martha, and I apologize. I'm sorry if you're feeling stuck on the farm with Clark, but-"

"I _love_ Clark. I've been sending out his picture with our Christmas cards and telling everyone what a sweet boy we have. But I'm feeling _trapped_, Jonathan! I can't go anywhere except to town running errands, and half the time I don't even take Clark with me because I'm afraid he'll zoom down the aisle of the supermarket or start bench pressing the laundry baskets." Martha took a breath. "I _want_ to get out. I _want_ to be social. I haven't seen our friends and neighbors _in a long time_!"

"Maamaa no yell!" Clark cried, a tear running down his cheek. He hated it when his parents argued.

"Honey, just take a breath." Jonathan grabbed a coffee mug and started pouring his wife another cup of tea. "Go upstairs and calm down." He went into the living room and handed the tea to his wife. "We'll talk later, I promise," he whispered. "We can't argue in front of Clarkie."

Martha smiled. "Okay." She gave her husband a warm kiss, mostly to show Clark that everything was all right. "Can you tuck Clark in?"

"Of course."

* * *

><p>Martha was considerably calm as she slid into bed a little later, wearing a cotton nightgown and sipping the last of her tea. She loved living on the farm with Jonathan, but she and her husband had always been somewhat socially isolated. Things had gotten even worse when they had adopted Clark; Clark had special abilities that others couldn't know about. Having a cup of coffee at the Beanery or wondering into Nell's flower shop to look at all of the tulips simply wasn't an option anymore, not when you had a three-year-old who could run around the entire store in the blink of an eye.<p>

Jonathan came into the master bedroom and closed the door behind him. He sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I want to go to holiday parties, too, but I think it's too early to introduce Clark to our neighbors. He's a little boy who's having trouble understanding the language and culture—_that alone_ is hard to explain!"

Martha nodded solemnly. "I know, but I need to get out, honey. I'm getting cabin fever. Christmas is a time that we need to spend together, I know, but there are other people I want to share the holiday spirit with besides you and Clark."

Jonathan smiled. "How about you can go to Nell's party, and I can come by later with Clark. I'll say a quick hello to everyone, pick you up, and take you home."

Martha sighed. "I think that's the best way," she admitted.

"It's okay, Martha. Things will get better as Clark grows older, I promise." Jonathan took his wife in his arms and planted her cheeks with several warm kisses. "But at least we never have a dull moment with Clark."

Martha groaned. "You can say that again."


	3. Clark's First Snowstorm

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

**Author's Note**: I love Little Clark!

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><p>The night was pretty uneventful, except for Clark waking up Martha in the middle of the night with his crying. The little one must have had a bad dream. Usually he came into his parents' room and climbed into bed with them, but who knows what he was thinking after Jonathan had brought that tree into the house. He must think Maamaa and Daadaa were going crazy.<p>

Martha went to her son's room, collected Clark in her arms, dried his tears, and carried him back to her and Jonathan's room. Clark fell asleep again clinging to his mother.

"Martha—_Martha_!"

Martha was awoken several hours later by Jonathan. He was standing at the bedroom window, wearing his robe and drying his hair—he had just gotten out of the shower. "Martha, come look at this!" he said excitedly.

Martha climbed out of bed and joined her husband at the window. The ground outside was covered with about an inch of snow, and more was falling from the sky by the second.

Jonathan smiled and reached for Martha's hand. "Clark's first snowstorm," he whispered.

"Clark! Clark, honey!" Martha went back over to the bed and rustled her son awake. "Come see the snow!"

"AAAAAA!" Clark protested as Martha lifted him up into her arms, flailing his arms and legs around. He didn't like to be woken up. As soon as his mother carried him to the window, however, he just went limp; his arms and legs stopped flailing, and he just stared at the snow in shock. The expression on his face, Martha noted, was absolutely priceless. His little mouth hung all the way open, and his eyes were as wide as saucers. He'd never seen snow before.

"Snow won't hurt you, sweetie," Martha cooed in her son's ear. "It's just like rain, only it's cold and it's white. How about we go out and play in it?"

"What…what…" Clark stammered. He couldn't speak he was so flabbergasted.

Martha smiled and kissed her son's nose. "Let's go outside and play, honey. You'll see. Snow's a lot of fun."

"Daddy will plow the driveway while Mommy changes you and makes breakfast," Jonathan smiled at his son. "Then the Kents will go out and play."

* * *

><p>Clark was very hesitant about the snow at first, but as soon as he saw his parents laughing and having fun, he joined in. Bundled up in an old winter coat that Jonathan wore at his age, Clark gleefully ambushed his mother with snowballs, made snow angels, and built a snowman with Maamaa and Daadaa. Martha took Clark in her arms, and the three Kents took a walk around their property together.<p>

"I'm sure I've told you this before, but thanks for talking me into adopting Clark," Jonathan smiled to his wife as they headed back to the house. "This is what the holidays all about." Meanwhile, their bundle of joy was yawning from inside his fur-lined hood. Little Clarkie needed a nap, Martha noted to herself.

Martha, Jonathan, and Clark peeled off their wet clothes inside the back door, and Martha put Clark down for his nap right in the living room. Clark curled up on the sofa on his tummy, squeezing his pillow, and fell asleep quickly. Meanwhile, Jonathan went outside to fetch firewood for a fireplace fire, and Martha quietly brewed hot chocolate in the kitchen.

"Do you think we should have warned Clark about the fire before he fell asleep?" Jonathan asked his wife quietly as they both snuggled next to each other on the love seat. "He hasn't seen fire yet, has he?"

"He sure has. Remember the day of the meteor shower? There were fires everywhere, and Clark was fine," Martha whispered, taking a sip of her hot chocolate and setting her mug down on the coffee table. "We have a screened fireplace, and he'll wake us up if he gets scared."

Jonathan yawned. "I'm beat, Martha. I need a nap."

"Same here. Goodnight, sweetheart." Martha lay her head on her husband's shoulder.

Within minutes, Clark's parents were asleep right next to him.


	4. Curious Clark

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

**Author's Note**: I have to thank Dean'sNerdyAngel for this entire story.

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><p>As Martha groggily wiped the sleep from her eyes, she wondered what time it was. Was it time for lunch yet? <em>A hot bowl of soup eaten near the fire would make a great family lunch<em>, she thought to herself as she focused her sleepy eyes. _Poor Clark doesn't know the pleasure of such things yet_.

Speaking of Clark, the little one was already awake. Standing in front of the fire grate. Reaching his hand inside.

"CLARK!" Martha gasped in horror, which jolted Jonathan right out of his sound sleep. "Sweetie, NO!" She ran over to her son in front of the fireplace, but it was too late. Clark's curiosity had gotten the better of him, and the little one had reached his hand inside to touch the flames.

In a split second, Jonathan had grabbed a blanket off the sofa and raced over. He grabbed Clark's hand out of the fire and clamped the blanket down on it to smother the flames. Clark was crying, but not because he was in any pain; he wasn't used to seeing his parents so alarmed.

"It's okay, darling," Martha soothed, rushing over to her son. "Clark, honey, why did you stick your hand in that fire? Fire is hot, too hot for us to touch!"

"Clark Kent, you know better," Jonathan scolded his son. Clark still sobbed.

"Let's look at his hand," Martha said quietly to her husband. "Clark might need medical attention."

Jonathan carried Clark back over to the sofa, and carefully unwrapped the blanket from his son's hand. He and Martha couldn't believe what they saw; Clark's hand was perfectly normal. There wasn't a burn, or even a scratch.

"Martha-" Jonathan just gazed at his wife, open-mouthed. "Martha, he's- he's-"

"Clark, honey." Martha held Clark's hand in her own. "Clark, does your hand hurt? At all?" She gazed up at her son.

Quietly, Clark shook his head. "Clark good," he reported to his parents.

"But, Jonathan, I saw him stick his hand right in!" Martha protested to her husband. "I _saw_ it! He _touched_ the fire!"

"Maybe he did, Martha," Jonathan replied calmly. "But Clark's done extraordinary things before. Maybe he's invulnerable to fire."

"I don't want to test that," Martha said slowly after a long silence. "I don't like exposing Clark to harm."

Jonathan nodded. "For now, we'll just accept it." He picked Clark up and held him in the air. "Are you hungry, Clark? Do you need something to eat?"

"Clark need eat," Clark agreed.

"Okay. We'll find something for you to eat." Jonathan put his son down and led him by the hand off to the kitchen. "Come on, son."

The Kents' family lunch was exactly what Martha dreamed: hot bowls of soup, eaten in front of the fireplace, Jonathan and Martha snuggling next to each other with little Clark at their feet. Clark was obediently eating his bowl of soup, but Martha wasn't that hungry. After a couple of sips, she set her bowl aside.

"Are you okay, Martha?" Jonathan asked his wife quietly. "Don't you feel well?"

Martha shook her head. "I don't know, honey. I don't think I'm getting sick. It's just that—every time we find out something else about Clark, something awful usually happens. Usually, it's you getting hurt. It causes me to lose my appetite."

Jonathan smiled. "Martha, I'll be fine. You just eat your soup. Don't you want to make something for Nell's Christmas party? I bet Clark would love to help you make some gingerbread cookies after lunch."

"Eat!" Clark said happily. Cookies were his favorite food.

Martha laughed. "At least Clark's happy."


	5. What Clark Wants for Christmas

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

* * *

><p>The next day, Martha came down with the flu. Jonathan thought she was being overdramatic, but not when he took her temperature; his wife was burning up.<p>

"I still say you made yourself sick, Martha, with all of your worrying," Jonathan sighed as he set a cup of tea by his wife's bedside. Martha just moaned in reply.

"It's terrible. I know, honey. Just get some rest." Jonathan tucked his wife in, wished her sweet dreams, and went to Clark's room.

Clark was playing with the General Lee. "Clark, Maamaa's sick today," he told his son, sitting down with him on the floor. "You know, she feels really yucky and she has to stay in bed. What do you say you go out with Daadaa and do some Christmas things? We can look at decorations and go to the toy store to see what Clark wants for Christmas."

Clark just looked at his father, head cocked to the side. Except for the part about Maamaa feeling yucky, he hadn't understood a thing his father had said.

Jonathan just smiled. "Come on, son. Let's get dressed and go out to the truck."

After dressing Clark and brushing his teeth, Jonathan shut the door to the bathroom so Clark could go potty. "I'm taking Clark out, Martha. I'll take him to the toy store to see what he wants for Christmas," Jonathan told his wife.

Martha only sniffled. "Can you get me some more tissues?"

* * *

><p>"I know you probably won't understand what I'm about to say, Clark," Jonathan said as he lifted up his son and slid him into the front seat of a shopping cart. They were outside of Smallville's only toy store. "But Maamaa and Daadaa want to get you something really special for Christmas. All you have are just Daadaa's old toys. We've been saving up some money to get you a brand new toy of your own."<p>

Clark just blinked. Jonathan sighed and rolled the shopping cart into the store.

"Clark like!" Clark exclaimed happily as he noticed a display of bouncing rubber balls. He stretched out his hands for one, but Jonathan laughed.

"No buying today, Clark. Only looking," he told Clark, smiling.

"But Clark like!" Clark protested. "Oooh, Clark like, Daadaa!" He turned away from the ball display and eyed up a child-size sliding board and swing set.

Just as Jonathan predicted, Clark liked just about everything in the store. He liked the stuffed animals, the outdoor sports equipment, the racecars, and the games. His eyes lit up when he saw a drivable model Jeep, and he clapped when he saw a tricycle. It was Clark's first visit to a toy store, and the little one was in Heaven.

"Clark," Jonathan told his son once they had made it through the entire store. "I know you liked everything, son. But I want you to pick out one thing-" he held up one finger—"_one_ thing that you might want to get as a present at Christmas. You remember what a present is? When Clark gets new toys?"

Jonathan had to repeat his request a few more times for Clark to understand. Finally, Jonathan lifted his son out of the cart and put him on the ground. Clark toddled his way through the toy store, and Jonathan followed. _What does Clark want for Christmas?_ he kept wondering to himself. _If he could choose anything, what would he pick?_

Clark stopped in the Star Wars aisle, right in front of a display of plastic, 12-inch tall model spaceships. Quietly, he pointed up to the spaceships and glanced at his father.

"A spaceship!" Jonathan laughed. "Of course!" _What else would a small child who came to Earth in a spaceship want? A toy spaceship of his own!_

Jonathan smiled and picked his son up in his arms. "Tell you what, Clark. You be a good boy from now until Christmas, and Mommy and I will make sure you have one of those toy spaceships waiting for you under the tree on Christmas morning. Okay?"

Clark smiled and clung to his father. "Clark be good boy. Clark get peasant."


	6. Unhappiness?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

**Author's Note**: I don't know where this subplot came from, but I'm just going to run with it. Who knows; it might get me somewhere.

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><p>When Clark and Jonathan arrived home, Jonathan saw Clark to his bedroom and his toys, then went down the hall to check on his wife. To his alarm, Martha was out of bed, throwing clothes into a suitcase.<p>

"Martha!" Jonathan gasped alarmingly. "What's wrong? Are you going somewhere?"

Martha sneezed, then continued to fling clothes into her suitcase in a rage. "I'm sorry, Jonathan. I can't stay here. I'm leaving, but only for a little while."

"Martha, you're feverish and delirious," Jonathan said gently, walking slowly over to the bed. He began lifting out Martha's sweaters one by one. "You love it here." He paused. "Don't you?" he asked fearfully. For a brief moment, Jonathan was terrified.

Martha sniffled, holding a tissue to her nose. "Christmas carolers came, Jonathan. _Christmas carolers_!"

"Honey, what on earth do carolers have to do with you being unhappy?"

Martha sneezed again. "I never get out, Jonathan. I _never get out_! I'm trapped in this house all the time, and I _love_ you and Clark, but I can never do a single thing on my own. You're _always_ busy with the farm, so I'm stuck looking after Clark, and I can't leave him alone for a single minute, because-"

"_Martha Kent_!" Jonathan clasped his hands around his wife's arms and looked her in the eye. Martha was a mess; her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was dripping, she was pale, and her nightgown was damp with sweat. Plus, she was still burning up.

"Martha, maybe you do have a bit of cabin fever," Jonathan admitted to his wife quietly. "Especially because it's so cold outside now and we're basically confined to the house unless we're doing chores. But listen to yourself: this is your flu talking, sweetheart. Sit down and take a deep breath." He sat down with Martha on the edge of their bed.

Martha took a breath that sounded like a death rattle. Her chest must have been congested.

Jonathan placed his hand on his wife's back and patted her gently. "Listen, honey. How about we put you back to bed with some chamomile tea? That'll make you drowsy, and you can sleep this flu off. If you still want to leave for a while, we can talk about it when you're all better."

Martha sighed. "Okay." She allowed her husband to tuck her back into bed with a cup of tea.

After seeing his wife off to feverish sleep, Jonathan went to Clark's room. The little one was playing happily with his toys. His stuffed dinosaur was currently trampling over the General Lee. "No cah!" Clark announced to no one in particular.

It was so cute watching Clark play. Jonathan wiped a nostalgic tear; he couldn't believe Martha was tired of this. _Or was she?_ Sure, she was feverish and delirious, but that feeling of cabin fever must have come from somewhere within her. Was she really feeling alone and caged up?

_I know what to get Martha for Christmas, _Jonathan thought to himself as he watched Clark's dinosaur rampage continue on his bedroom floor. _Maybe a night by herself at the bed and breakfast. That'll cheer her up._

Jonathan turned around to go downstairs and make sandwiches for lunch, but he noticed a cardboard box at the top of the stairs. It was labeled "Xmas Decs," and when Jonathan peeked inside, he discovered his and Martha's Christmas stockings, both handmade by Jonathan's mother. But there was no little stocking for Clark.

"Clark!" Jonathan exclaimed quietly, heading back into his son's room. "We have another little project to take care of! Clark, you need a stocking."

Blank stare.

"That's where your presents go!" Jonathan encouraged his son. "Come on, Clark. Let's go to a craft store and get you a Christmas stocking."

Clark still hadn't completely understood. He just stared at his father. "Clark get peasant?" he finally asked.


	7. Jonathan's Shock

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

* * *

><p>The Kents seemed to be all ready for Christmas. Three stockings hung from the fireplace mantel; in the past, only Jonathan and Martha's had hung over the fire, but now, a third stocking dangled between them, considerably smaller in size.<p>

The tree was beautifully decorated, and an angel shone brightly on top. A fire burned in the fireplace, and the scent of warm gingerbread cookies drifted in from the kitchen. It was the epitome of a country Christmas.

_Well, it _would_ be if Clark knew what was going on, _Jonathan thought ruefully as he sat reading the paper in front of the fireplace. Clark was beginning to warm up to the holiday; he had devoured his first gingerbread cookie earlier that evening, and _The Night Before Christmas_ was turning out to be a popular request for a bedtime story.

"Peasants! Peasants!" Clark said, clapping with joy. Martha, clad in her bathrobe, had just finished reading Clark the story for the second time that evening. His favorite part, of course, came at the end when the funny-looking man with the white beard and red suit left presents under the Christmas tree.

"That's right, honey! Presents!" Martha gave Clark a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She knew Clark didn't understand the story at all, but was simply waiting patiently for her to get to the end, when the strange man left the presents under the tree.

Martha's fever was gone, but her body still ached. She had spent most of the day lying around the house, but had made a few batches of cookies, for Clark's sake. Jonathan had approached her, wanting to talk about the other day when she had attempted to run away, but Martha refused to talk. "I promise we can talk when I'm ready, Jonathan," she had told him, and Jonathan was forced to accept it.

"Time for bed, Clark Kent," Jonathan told his little son as his wife closed the book. "Mommy needs her rest too."

"Let's brush your teeth and go potty, Clark," Martha said softly. She got up from the sofa and led little Clark upstairs.

"Clark eat?" Clark asked hopefully.

"No, Clark had two gingerbread cookies. That's enough."

Ten minutes later, Martha came back downstairs and poured herself a cup of tea. She settled back down on the sofa. "Tomorrow night is Nell's Christmas party," she remarked.

"You can go if you want to, Martha. I'll watch Clark. But I don't want you going if you still have that flu."

Martha nodded. "Might as well sleep it off." She yawned. "I'm going up to bed, Jonathan."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk, Martha?" Jonathan asked his wife quietly, getting up from his chair in front of the fire. "I'm your husband, sweetheart. I want to know how you're feeling. If you're unhappy or upset, I want to know what I can do to help."

Martha just shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm still not ready to talk, Jonathan. I'm so tired. I'm going to get a good night's sleep, and - I don't know. Let's see how I feel tomorrow."

Martha climbed the stairs to go to bed.

* * *

><p>A while later, Jonathan headed upstairs as well. Martha was already asleep in her nightgown, an empty cup of tea and some painkillers cluttering her nightstand. <em>Poor Martha<em>, Jonathan thought quietly as he changed into red plaid pajamas. _Get well soon, honey_.

Jonathan almost tripped over something as he headed over to his side of the bed. He reached down to pick it up; it was as large as a cardboard box, and quite heavy, but it didn't feel like one; it felt like it was made of worn leather. Quietly, he headed toward the bathroom, the large container still in his hand.

Closing the bathroom door and flicking on the light, Jonathan examined the object; it was a suitcase. Opening the lid, Jonathan discovered Martha's knitting materials, some clothes and toiletries, and a photo album filled with pictures of Jonathan and Clark.

Jonathan felt his eyes filling with tears. _She's serious; she wants to leave_. Jonathan wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his pajama top. _Sweetheart, how could you do this to me?_ He silently asked his wife, hurt. _How could you walk out right before Christmas? What on earth am I going to tell Clark? Mommy doesn't love him anymore?_

Jonathan started to cry. "I love you, Martha," he whispered as he peeked through the bathroom door at his sleeping wife. "Please don't leave."


	8. The Christmas Party

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

* * *

><p>"How do I look, Jonathan?" Martha asked, eyes looking to her husband expectantly.<p>

Jonathan Kent glanced at his wife. She was wearing a tight-fitting red pantsuit, her hair brushed out and pinned back with a barrette. She looked so beautiful; Jonathan had to resist the urge to pin her down on the bed and start kissing her.

Jonathan smiled. "You look fantastic, Martha," he assured her genuinely. "You look like you lost a lot of weight."

Martha laughed and spritzed on some perfume. "Chasing after a three-year-old with super speed helps."

Earlier in the day, Jonathan had questioned Martha about the suitcase. Martha told her husband she wasn't planning on leaving him permanently, but still wasn't ready to talk.

"I don't want to wake up one morning and discover my bed empty, Martha," Jonathan told his wife impatiently.

"You won't," Martha fought back. "I would never leave you, Jonathan. That suitcase is packed just in case…you know, I need some alone time. I'd head out to the bed-and-breakfast for a night, and that's all."

"Honey, if you need alone time, I could arrange it. I could watch Clark while you run errands, have coffee with your friends, go to the library-"

"_I don't want to talk, Jonathan_!" Martha yelled at him. Then she had stomped upstairs. Jonathan sighed; he had no reason to believe that Martha was being untruthful when she had told him she would never leave him permanently, but he wished he knew what she was thinking inside.

Now, as Martha was getting ready for the Christmas party, Jonathan was sitting on their bed, watching. Clark was playing in his room. "What time does the party end, honey?" Jonathan asked his wife, turning a page of the paper.

Martha was applying lipstick. "Nine, sweetheart. That's what the invitation said."

"So how about I come for you around quarter of? I'll bring Clark, and he can say hello to our neighbors. They'll coo over Clark, I'll say hello, and we can leave together."

"That sounds great. While I'm gone, remember to give Clark a bath-"

"—I do that every night, honey-"

"—and give him his dessert, and brush his teeth before you pick me up. When we get back, he's going straight to bed. Nine is way past his bedtime."

"Darling," Jonathan smiled. "This isn't the first time I'm watching our little boy. If I'm Daddy, I have to _be_ a Daddy. He needs _me_ to raise him too." He got up off the bed, went over to his wife, and put his arms around her.

Martha sighed. "I guess the worrisome mother in me is already coming out."

"She'd better not leave," Jonathan whispered, giving her a kiss.

* * *

><p>"Martha!" Nell Porter gave her a big hug. "Martha, <em>look at you<em>! You look _great_! Where's Jonathan?"

"We couldn't find a babysitter for Clark, so Jonathan stayed home to watch him," Martha told her friend. "He wanted me to come to your party, because I've been so busy with Clark that I never get out!"

"You could have _brought _Clark!" Nell smiled. "Lana and Pete are in Lana's playroom upstairs with some other kids. They would love to play with Clark!"

"Clark's shy. He isn't ready to play with other children yet," Martha replied uncomfortably.

"Are you going to enroll him in preschool next year?" Nell asked.

"I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. Jonathan and I _want_ him to socialize with other children, but he might not be ready," Martha admitted quietly. _Although I hope he is_, Martha thought to herself as Nell poured her a cup of eggnog. _Clark being in school will free up a lot of my time_.

As Nell went to greet another arriving guest, Martha sat on her living room sofa and relaxed. _This feels so nice_, she thought to herself as she took a sip. But then she turned beside her—

and realized the love of her life wasn't there.


	9. Time for a Talk

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

**Author's Note**: I know some of you were looking forward to seeing Baby Lana and Baby Pete. I gave Lana a little cameo, but otherwise, it just wasn't in the cards this time. Maybe they'll make an appearance in Little Clark IV: Little Clark Goes to Preschool or something.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for coming, Martha and Jonathan! Nice meeting you, little Clark!"<p>

Nell waved goodbye as the Kents headed out her front door and toward Jonathan's truck. Her partygoers had been very excited to get a glimpse at the adopted Kent boy, and Nell had even introduced Clark to Lana. Three-year-old Lana, clad in a red Christmas dress, was very outgoing and chirped a cheerful hello, but Clark just kind of looked at her shyly.

"Say hello to her, Clark!" Martha had encouraged her son.

"Lama," said Clark quietly.

"Her name is _Lana_, son," Jonathan corrected him. "He must be tired," he explained to Nell. "We'd better get him home."

Clark fell asleep in the car on the way back to the farm. After Martha and Jonathan tucked him in, they went downstairs to share a pot of tea. "Want to talk, Jon?" Martha asked quietly as she poured from the kettle.

"Sure, sweetie," Jonathan told his wife, a lump forming in his throat.

Martha put her coat and boots back on, went outside, and sat on the front porch step of the house, sipping her hot tea. The tea felt especially warm gliding down her throat with the cold air wisping by her face. "Jonathan, I enjoyed myself at Nell's party, but I was lonely," she admitted to her husband as he sat down beside her. "You weren't there, and I missed you."

Jonathan smiled. "Awwww."

"I'm serious, sweetheart. I love you so much. I know I've had that suitcase packed, and I've been tempted to strike out on my own for a couple of days, but I think you were right; I think it was the flu talking. But wanting to get out is normal for any busy mother cooped up in the house, and I guess it's been driving me to do crazy things lately." She sighed. "I blame not only my flu, but the stress of the holidays."

Jonathan ran a hand through his wife's hair. "I know you've been run ragged lately, Martha," he admitted quietly. "And I'm sorry. I know it's been very hard for you to prepare for the holidays, look after Clark, and stay cooped up on this farm."

"Don't be sorry. Clark can be a real handful, Jonathan."

"Clark may be a handful, I'll admit, but he's a really good kid, and he's going to turn out fine," Jonathan assured his wife. He gave Martha a kiss on the cheek. "I just don't want you to feel overwhelmed any more, sweetie. Whenever you feel upset, or caged up from now on, just tell me, sweetheart. I'll drop what I'm doing, look after Clark, and you can do something on out your own…even if it's a cup of coffee at the Beanery."

Martha smiled weakly. "I'm sorry if I upset you, honey. It's been hard for this city girl to adjust to life on the farm…but I have no regrets."

"And this farm boy loves her very dearly, and wants to take good care of her." Jonathan and his wife shared a tender kiss.

"If you don't mind, sweetheart, I'm going to take a little walk over to the barn before going to bed. I'm just going to sit up in the loft for awhile for some private reflection."

"Don't take too long, sweetie. I don't like my bed cold."

* * *

><p>Jonathan had recently built a loft in the barn. His goal was to eventually turn it into a play area for Clark, but for now, it contained an easy chair, a basket of Martha's knitting materials, and some blankets. It was a private area where Martha and Jonathan could sit and think, and Martha went there often…even at night.<p>

Martha lit a candle in the loft window for light, then sank into the easy chair and covered her legs with a blanket. _This is a great place to think by myself, _she thought tiredly, yawning. _But I promised Jonathan only for a few minutes. He hates a cold and lonely bed._

A wave of heavy fatigue washed over Martha, and soon she couldn't fight it anymore. Her eyes seemed to close automatically, and as she thought lovingly of her husband and son, she drifted into a soft sleep in the barn loft, the candle still blazing in the window.


	10. Clark Saves Maamaa

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

* * *

><p>Jonathan Kent was lying in bed, waiting for Martha to crawl under the covers, when a cry rang out from little Clark's room. The toddler was wailing.<p>

_He must have had a bad dream_, Jonathan thought as he got out of bed, stuffed his feet into his slippers, and padded down the hall to his son's room. As he opened the door, he was surprised to see Clark standing at his bedroom window, looking out towards the barn.

"_Daadaa_!" Clark cried, toddling as fast as he could over to his father. "Daadaa-" Clark was pointing over toward the window, looking anxious and distressed. His face was a mess of tears.

"What is it, Clark?" Jonathan went over to his son's window and looked out; he could clearly see one of the top windows of the barn. And it was on fire.

_Oh, my God_, he thought to himself, alarmed. _That's where Martha is!_

"Come on, son!" Jonathan said immediately, trying to keep calm as he whipped around, picked up Clark in his arms, and hurried down the stairs of the house.

Jonathan raced outside, Clark still in his arms. In the distance, he heard the wailing of sirens; one of the neighbors must have seen the blaze and called the fire department.

Jonathan set Clark down on the ground a safe distance away from the barn. "Listen, Clark," he told his son seriously. "You stay _right here_, all right? Don't move." Jonathan pointed to the ground so Clark knew what to do. "Daddy's going to go get Mommy."

"Clark save Maamaa," Clark told his father.

"NO, Clark. Clark is staying _right_ _here_ where he's safe." Jonathan pointed to the ground again. "_Daddy_ is getting Mommy."

"Clark go," Clark shrugged. "Clark no hurt. Daadaa get hurt."

Before Jonathan could say anything else, his son ZZZZOOOOOOOOOMed away into the barn with his super speed.

Jonathan sighed anxiously. Clark wasn't exactly being a bad boy; true, he had disobeyed his father's wishes, but technically he was being a hero by rescuing his mother. However, Jonathan still felt guilty allowing a three-year-old to go into a burning barn, invulnerable to fire or not.

"Come on, Martha," Jonathan prayed aloud as the fire trucks raced closer and closer to the farm. "Come on, honey. You've _got_ to be okay!"

* * *

><p>Clark emerged from the barn a few minutes later, dragging Martha by the hand. Martha looked okay to Jonathan, but she was coughing heavily. When Clark finally approached his father, Martha collapsed at Jonathan's feet in a fit of coughing.<p>

"Martha!" Jonathan cried, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around her. He patted her on the back to try and stop the coughing. "Martha, are you okay? Honey, what happened?" he asked his wife, panicking.

Martha tried to answer, but couldn't. She was choking as she tried to breathe. Jonathan began to worry that she had inhaled some smoke.

Meanwhile, the firefighters had halted their truck next to the barn and were hustling to control the blaze. An ambulance soon parked beside the fire truck and two EMTs emerged, rushing over to where the Kents were huddled.

"Is everyone okay?" one of them asked.

"I'm worried about my wife. She might have inhaled smoke," Jonathan explained worriedly. Martha was still trying to control her coughing fit.

"Come on, Mrs. Kent. Let's take a look at you. I'm sure you're going to be all right," the other EMT told her. They both helped Martha over to the ambulance.

Clark tugged at his father's pajamas. "Daadaa, _why_? Why fire?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know son, but your mother would know. Let's find out."


	11. A Sleepy Hero

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or any of these characters.

**Author's Note**: After this, there's probably going to be about one more chapter. Then it's goodbye to Little Clark while I take a break for a while. I don't want to give up the series—I love writing about Little Clark, he's just too cute—but I need to rest. I've just been working on this nonstop.

* * *

><p>Martha was okay; after a few minutes breathing into an oxygen mask in the back of the ambulance, she was tired, but fine. One of the EMTs tried to get her to go to the hospital, but she refused.<p>

"I don't want to go," she told him. "I want to stay here with my husband and son." She held Clark in her arms.

"Martha-" Jonathan began.

"That's all right," one of the EMTs interrupted. "You don't need to go right now. But I _do_ want you to call your family physician first thing tomorrow for a checkup. Other than that, you seem to be fine."

Martha nodded. Still holding little Clark, she climbed out of the ambulance and started heading back to the house. "Come on, Clarkie. Let's get some sleep."

"Martha-" Jonathan caught up with his wife as the ambulance left. "Martha, _what happened_? We're going to have to explain this to the fire marshal!"

"It was an _accident_, Jonathan," Martha sighed to her husband tiredly, stopping in her tracks. "I went up to the loft to relax and clear my head. I left a candle burning in the window, and I accidentally fell asleep. The wind must have spread the flame and started the fire." Martha looked down at Clark, who had his thumb in his mouth. "Next thing I knew, Clark came in and was tugging at me."

"I told him not to," Jonathan said huffily. "But he went in anyway."

Clark took his thumb out of his mouth. "Clark no get hurt," he told his parents quietly. "Clark like fire."

Surprisingly, Martha had to laugh. She looked up at Jonathan. "What do we tell the fire marshal? My three-year-old ran into the barn and woke me up just in time?"

"No, we'll tell him you woke up and got out just in time." Jonathan took Clark from Martha. "Let's go talk to the fire marshal really quick, okay? And then we'll all go back to sleep." He was using one arm to support Clark, resting his free arm on Martha's shoulder.

Martha felt her husband's calm, gentle touch. She smiled and reached up to place a hand on top of Jonathan's. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

><p>The fire marshal wasn't suspicious at all. There was no reason to suspect arson—the Kents weren't the kind of people to set their own barn on fire purposely, and no one in town seemed to have a motive—so Martha's story about the candle seemed plausible. With a warning that the sheriff might come around tomorrow to ask some follow-up questions, the fire department left. Martha and Jonathan trooped back to the house, Clark still in Jonathan's arms.<p>

"Can I take Clark?" Martha asked her husband quietly, and Jonathan gently handed Clark over. The toddler was yawning.

"I know you're tired, honey," Martha whispered into her son's ear.

"Clark slee Maamaa Daadaa?" Clark asked sleepily.

"Why, of course you can, son," Jonathan smiled.

As soon as they reached the house, Martha started upstairs with Clark. "Jonathan, can you make me a pot of tea?" Martha asked him. "I want a cup of hot tea-" she let out a pathetic cough—"but I'm so tired."

"Of course, Martha."

As Martha was upstairs getting ready for bed, Jonathan reflected alone in the kitchen as he made his wife some tea. Hopefully the fire was exactly what Martha claimed—an accident. But he couldn't imagine his sweet Martha setting the barn on fire with herself in it, even if she _was _upset.

Wiping tears caused by stress, excitement, and relief, Jonathan finally climbed upstairs to the master bedroom with a tea tray. It was past midnight, and he was anxious to get back to bed.

Martha and Clark were settled in bed. Clark was asleep, curled up next to his mother. Martha had changed into a nightgown and washed her face.

Jonathan set the tea tray on Martha's nightstand. "Martha, are you still awake?" he whispered to her.

"Mmmm," came a mumble from Martha. Her eyes fluttered open; she saw Jonathan and smiled. "Thanks, sweetheart. Climb on in; Clark and I have been keeping the bed warm for you."

Jonathan smiled, went over to his side on the bed, and curled up on the other side of Clark.

He knew his Martha would be okay.


	12. Clark's First Christmas

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Smallville or any of these characters.

**Author's Note**: Farewell, Little Clark (just temporarily). I need a break.

* * *

><p>It was finally Christmas morning.<p>

Clark didn't know. He hadn't grasped the concept of days and dates yet, so he didn't know that Christmas was on December 25th.

Astoundingly, Clark had slept through the night from Christmas Eve to Christmas morning, not crying or wondering into his parents' bedroom once. Maamaa had read him his bedtime story—once again _The Night Before Christmas_—and tucked him in. The next thing he knew, Maamaa and Daadaa were rustling him awake.

"Clark! Clark, wake up! It's Christmas!" Daadaa was saying.

"Presents, honey!" Maamaa beamed. "Clark, there are _presents_ for you under the tree downstairs!"

"Peasants!" Clark exclaimed excitedly, waking up at once. He jolted upright out of bed, and Martha scooped him up in her arms.

"Easy there, little guy!" Jonathan laughed as Clark kicked, trying to get out of Maamaa's arms and downstairs to his presents. "Don't hurt Maamaa. Let's take this nice and easy."

* * *

><p>Martha had wrapped Clark's presents with red wrapping paper, and Jonathan and Martha had wrapped each other's presents in green paper. Clark was still struggling to read his name, and this seemed like the perfect solution.<p>

Clark tore into the red presents like any three-year-old on Christmas morning. At Martha's urging, Jonathan ran to get the video camera. Clark's first Christmas was something that had to be caught on tape.

"Maamaa!" Clark exclaimed, holding up a set of blocks, which was a present that Martha's father had sent to his new grandson. "Clark like!"

"Good, sweetie! I'm glad you like your blocks!" Martha smiled warmly, hugging her son. Her father had been trying to get close to his grandson, but Jonathan and Martha were leery of exposing their son's abilities to someone whom Jonathan didn't quite get along with. "We can spell words with those!"

"Clark like!" Clark clapped gleefully as he opened up his next present, some books for beginning readers.

"Martha, give him the big one," Jonathan told his wife as he kept the video camera rolling.

"Here, honey. Open this," Martha smiled to her son, handing him a package about as big as a clothing box.

Clark tore into the package happily. "_Maamaa!_ _Daadaa_!" he yelled excitedly, sounding the happiest that his parents had ever heard him. "SIP! SIP!" Clark was on his feet now, waving his prized toy in the air; it was a _ship_. A toy spaceship, to be exact: the exact same one that Clark had pointed out to his father in the toy store a week earlier.

Clark was jumping up and down with excitement. "Clark like!" he exclaimed happily. "CLARK LIKE SIP!"

"Settle down, little guy," Jonathan laughed. "We know you're happy!"

"A spaceship! _Of course_ Clark would want a spaceship!" Martha said soothingly, helping her son get the package open. "Is this the special toy Clark picked out at the store?"

"That's the one," Jonathan smiled, stopping the video camera. He put it down on the floor. "Let Clark play with his ship. Open some of the presents I gave you, Martha."

Martha opened her presents from Jonathan. Her husband had given her a book on knitting, a pair of earrings, and a new perfume.

"It smells wonderful, honey. Like fresh flowers!" Martha exclaimed.

"That's not all." Jonathan reached under the tree and produced a thick white envelope. "Merry Christmas, Martha."

Martha smiled. "Thanks, sweetie." Quietly, Martha opened the envelope. It was a reservation sheet for a two-night stay at a hotel in Metropolis.

"Oh, Jonathan," Martha gasped quietly, holding the sheet in her hands like a priceless treasure. "Jonathan, _thank you_. Thank you so much!"

Jonathan smiled. "I knew you would like it. Three days and two nights in Metropolis to spend on your very own, sweetheart. I'll stay home with Clark."

Jonathan put his arms around Martha and kissed her on the cheek. He hadn't opened any of Martha's presents yet, but to Martha, that didn't matter. This was Christmas for her.

Clark was playing with his toy spaceship, even though he still had a couple of presents yet. He was soaring it through the air and making strange motor noises.

_I wonder if he remembers soaring through the air in his little spaceship_, Martha thought as her son played happily_. Poor little guy. Where is he from? Did his parents deliberately get rid of him?_ The sad thing was that Martha knew some of her questions would probably never be answered. Still, Martha knew that Clark was happy. He loved his Maamaa and Daadaa, and he loved his new toys.

"Come here, Clark, honey. Hug Mommy," Martha told her son, holding out her arms. Clark ran into her arms at once.

Jonathan went over and hugged his wife and son tightly. "This is what Christmas is all about," he murmured.

Clark just smiled. He hadn't understood what his father had just said, but it didn't matter.

This was one of the warmest embraces—and one of the best days- he'd ever experienced.


End file.
